Shattered Emeralds
by UncleGibby
Summary: Craptastic summary is craptastic. Probably becauce it's my first. Anyway, AU, human names used, England/fem!Lithuania. Rated T because that seems safe enough. Good plot and everything. Okay, that's an opinion, but still.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi guys and welcome to my first (published) fan fiction ever! \^o^/ Hope all you lovely readers out there enjoy it! I don't own Hetalia or it's characters, but I do own the plot of this story! So, without further ado: Shattered Emeralds.**

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><p>Arthur Kirkland begrudgingly stood in front of the door to his younger brother's penthouse apartment. He rung the doorbell, embarrassed by the fact that he had to live with Alfred, even if it only was only temporary…<p>

He was torn from his thoughts when the door opened to a young woman with green doe-like eyes and brown hair done up in a bun. She regarded him with a smile.

"Hello. Would you like to see Mr. Jones?" she asked politely.

"Well, yes," he replied, a bit too matter-o-factly to his liking. _'You're a gentleman,' _he reminded himself, _'Act as such.'_

"Please, come in," the woman invited, not reacting to the seemingly rude response.

"Thank you," the Englishman replied, politely this time, picking up his suitcase and dragging his wheeled bag into the large sitting room.

"If you'll wait here, I'll go get Mr. Jones," the woman turned to leave, but then spun on her heel, remembering something.

"I'm sorry sir, I forgot to ask your name," she said shyly, obviously embarrassed by her forgetfulness.

"Arthur Kirkland," he said proudly. Then added, not so proudly, "I'm Alfred's brother."

A surprised "oh" escaped the young woman's lips, before she smiled brightly.

"You're his brother? I've heard a lot about you, Mr. Kirkland!"

'_She obviously hasn't heard that I'm a doctor…' _

"It's an honor to meet you," she said suddenly giddy, "I'll go and fetch Mr. Jones."

She turned again, more hurriedly this time, calling a "Make yourself at home" over her shoulder as she went.

'_What a strange girl,' _Arthur thought, sitting on a rather…stylish sofa, _'So happy and…cute.' _He then realized that these were probably the exact reasons that his brother had hired her. Assuming she was the housekeeper, she was also very hardworking. Arthur knew how demanding it was to keep up with the mess Alfred made, but the flat, from what he could see, was very clean and tidy. _'Hope he's paying her well for her troubles.'_

"Iggy!" Alfred beamed, strutting into the room, "It's great to see you again, big bro!"

Arthur stood and his "bro" bounded up to him, enveloping him in a hug.

'_Why didn't I stay with Matthew?' _the Brit inwardly questioned, reluctantly patting Alfred's back.

"Nice to see you, too, Alfred," he replied, trying to be polite.

The young woman, who had followed her employer back into the room, stood a few yards away, patiently waiting the greeting to end.

"May I get you anything, Mr. Jones, Mr. Kirkland? Coffee, perhaps?" she offered.

"Coffee's fine for me, Tori." Alfred said brightly, flopping down on the couch.

"Tea, if you have it," the older man said, "And if you don't mind, it's _Doctor_ Kirkland, love."

'Love_? Where the bloody hell did that come from?'_

She nodded, pink tingeing her cheeks as well as the man who had addressed her. She headed for the kitchen, and Arthur quietly sat down.

"So, Tori." he said after a moment, trying to sound nonchalant, "She's your housekeeper?"

"Yeah. Her full name is really pretty, but I can't remember how to pronounce it," the younger man said shamelessly, "She's from Lithuania. That's somewhere near Russia, I think…"

His brother just rolled his eyes at his ignorance, but continued on with polite conversation none-the-less.

"She's a very nice young lady."

"Yeah. Cute, too."

"Alfred, that's no way to talk-"

"You see her blush? Freaking adorable," the American said, cutting him off, "Especially after you called her _'love'_."

"But…that was…I…"

Alfred laughed as his older brother tried to splutter out a reply, both turning red-faced. They tried to compose themselves after a long moment as Tori reentered the room, carrying a tray carrying the men's drinks along with milk and sugar.

"Your coffee, Mr. Jones," she said, carefully placing the tray on the coffee table, "And your tea, Dr. Kirkland."

"Thank you, Miss…" Arthur trailed off, encouraging Tori to finish for him, stirring his tea.

"Laurinaté," she said, smiling, turning pink again, "Viktorija Laurinaté. You can call me 'Tori,' like Mr. Jones does, though."

"I told you her name was pretty," Alfred commented, making said-person turn red.

"Th-thank you, Mr. Jones," she said meekly, then rushed to leave the room.

"Oh, Tori wait!" Alfred called, "before you leave, show my brother where his room is."

"Alright," she squeaked, nodding and continuing on her way.

"Do you _intend_ to make her embarrassed like that?" Arthur demanded.

"Jealous?" his younger brother challenged, then added, "You know, I bet I could get her to wear a French maid's outfit if I wanted."

Arthur nearly spat out his tea. He thought he felt his nose begin to bleed, but he was only imagining it, thank God. Alfred ignored this, continuing his thought out loud.

"Francis probably has one floating around his place. She's so obedient, you know…"

"I think that's quite enough, Alfred," Arthur said sternly, "Can we change the topic to something more civil?"

"Fine. Any suggestions?"

"How's Matthew doing?"

"Eh, pretty good. Seems pretty happy now that he's seeing Gilbert."

"Gilbert? That German boy?"

"That's the ticket. Other than that, he's pretty much the same," Alfred swished what was left of his coffee around his mug, "How've you been?"

"Fine, thank you," Arthur replied, sipping his tea.

"Care to elaborate, limey?"

"Well," he replied, stiffening at the insult, "I'm a bit tired from jet-lag. I think I'll turn in soon."

"Me too," Alfred stood up, stretching, "Got work tomorrow."

"But you're drinking coffee."

"Nice observation, Captain Obvious."

"The caffeine will keep you up, git." the elder retorted.

"Oh," the young American blinked, "Well, either I've become immune to it, or Tori just gives me decaf past a certain time."

"Hmm." Arthur replied, finishing off his tea, "How responsible."

"Tori!" Alfred yelled. The young woman appeared a moment later.

"Yes, Mr. Jones?"

"Show Iggy to his room," he ordered, already heading to his own room.

"Yes, sir. Follow, please, Dr. Kirkland," she said, smiling sweetly.

Arthur gathered his things and followed Tori down a small hallway adjoining to the sitting room.

"The bathroom is at the end of the hall, and this," she said stopping in front of a looked identical to the others in the hallway, "is your room."

She opened the door for him, and he stepped inside.

"Thank you, Miss Laurinaté."

"If you don't need anything else, I'll be leaving for the evening," she said, obviously stifling a yawn.

"Oh, no, by all means," Arthur smiled, "Good night, Miss Laurinaté."

"Good night, Dr. Kirkland," Tori bid gratefully, shutting the door as she left, leaving Arthur alone in his new room.

He looked around while changing into pajamas, too tired to unpack anything else. He found the room unexpectedly pleasant; the walls painted a calming blue and the furniture looked to be made from solid oak. The hard wood floor(probably also oak) was covered with a few navy blue throw rugs in places, the rugs matching the very inviting bed sheets.

"Well done," he said to no one, testing the bed with his hand. "Memory foam? I'm impressed, Alfred. Surprisingly impressed."

Arthur turned on the bedside lamp and went to turn off the main light of the room.

Content with the warm glow of the lamp, he curled up with a riveting fantasy novel, and

soon fell asleep in his new (and quite comfy) bed.

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><p><strong>Well, there she is! The first chapter, that is, because if this was a one shot, I would suck! I hope you enjoyed it to some degree, even if it was to laugh at the...whole thing. Anyway reviews are appreciated. Hope to see you next time! Bye!<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm so happy chapter 2 is up! I didn't think I was going to make it by the end of the weekend, but I did! Now on to homework...HA.**

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><p>Arthur woke up the next day around three o'clock, feeling completely refreshed.<p>

He stretched out sleepily under the nice, warm covers and- his stomach groaned in hungry agitation, putting any plans to sleep in further on hold.

As he padded groggily down the hall, he wondered if Tori would be here. _'What time is it, anyway?'_

"Good afternoon Dr. Kirkland," said-woman greeted brightly as the Brit stumbled into the _very _bright sitting area.

"Afternoon Miss Luarinaté," he blinked in the harsh light.

"Would you like something to eat?"

"Er, just tea will be fine, thank you love," Arthur replied wandering over to the sofa. His stomach groaned again, making Tori giggle. "Ah, on second thought…"

"I'll make you something while I get your tea," the Lithuanian smiled as she headed towards the kitchen.

Arthur sat down as he watched her go, thinking about how lovely her smile was.

'_Oh shit, I called her "love" again.'_

His thoughts were blatantly interrupted by a harsh pounding at the door. He got up to answer it, considering Tori was busy and the visitor was about to beat the door off its hinges. He opened to the door to reveal a very tall, blond man, violet eyes blazing with annoyance, though a small smile was playing on his lips.

"Where is Viktorija?" he asked through a thick Russian accent.

Arthur was about to answer when Tori's voice, meek and slightly trembling, came from behind him.

"H-hello I-Ivan," she squeaked, "Wh-wh-what brings you h-here?"

"I came home early and saw your cell phone on the table. I'd leave it alone, but your brother and Felicija kept calling," the Russian's eyes flashed dangerously.

"Oh, th-thank you," she replied, taking the phone tentatively from Ivan's hand.

"I'll see you tonight, da?" he questioned, pulling Tori past Arthur and into a possessive embrace.

"Um…s-sure."

The Brit, who had been looking on rather awkwardly, decided that the scene was getting a little too personal for him to be watching any further and quietly found his way to the kitchen. Tori joined him a few moments later, blushing and slightly shaky.

"A friend of yours?" Arthur inquired, leaning against the counter.

"That was, uh, my boyfriend, Ivan. He lives downstairs, on the tenth floor," she smiled nervously.

For some reason, Arthur's heart sank. He chose to ignore it, though, and pressed on with the conversation.

"He gets you that worked up?" he asked, half teasing, half concerned, forcing a smirk.

"Ah," Tori's blush deepened.

Fortunately, she was saved from giving an answer by her phone going off in her hand.

"Oh, excuse me Dr. Kirkland; I have to take this," she walked back into the front room, "Sveiki, Eduard."

Arthur heaved a sigh as his stomach rumbled again. He decided to check the fridge for something to hold him over until dinner at least. The Englishman settled on a ham and cheese sandwich and ended up making his tea himself.

On his way back to his room, Arthur couldn't help but overhear some of Tori's conversation.

"Ed-" she paused, interrupted by the person on the other end, "Eduard, I'm sorry, but you know…you know how he can be."

Arthur, not able to overcome his curiosity, positioned himself at the end of the hallway where Tori wouldn't be able to see him, but where he could still hear her.

"No, no, no, don't put Felicija on, Eduard, please," she pleaded, then sighed in defeat. Her sigh was closely followed by yelling from the other end so loud that Arthur could almost clearly make out what the speaker was saying.

"Are you done?" Tori asked, then continued, "I'll be home around six tonight, so you can have dinner with us there," a short pause, "I mean 'us' as in Eduard, Raivis, and myself. No Ivan, I promise."

She was quiet again for a moment.

"Okay. Sudie draguas."

Arthur, suddenly embarrassed by his eavesdropping, hurried into his room and remained there until his brother came home.

"Hey, Artie, you feeling alright?" his brother asked, entering the room on his own accord, "Tori said you've been in here most of the day."

"I'm fine, just catching up on my reading is all," he replied, indicating the book in his lap.

"Oh great!" the American brightened up, "So, ya wanna go some place for dinner? I already made Tori leave, so you don't really have a choice."

"I suppose I don't," Arthur stood up and stretched, "Wait, '_made' _her leave?"

"Yeah, she looked… I don't know, like she'd been crying or something."

"Oh, I hope she's alright."

"Eh, Tori's cool. She'll be okay."

"Hm," Arthur looked down at his watch. _'Five-forty-five and I'm still in pajamas.'_

"I'll just change, then we can go whenever."

"Cool beans," Alfred said, halfway out the door, "Oh, yeah, Francis is coming, too."

He then bolted out of the doorway, leaving Arthur staring after him, something between a mix of shock and anger brewing inside him. The anger eventually won out and Arthur stomped out of his room after his brother, shouting all the way.

"Francis? That bloody frog, _Francis Bonnefoy_?" he sputtered, marching into the sitting room.

"Oui, cousin?"

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><p><em><strong>Translation Notes:<strong>_

_**da= yes(Russian) {a bit obvious, but whatevs}**_

_**sveiki= hello(Lithuanian)**_

_**Sudie, dragaus= Goodbye, friend(Lithuanian)**_

_**Oui, cousin?= Yes, cousin?(French) {It boggled my mind that "cousin" is "cousin" in French. YAY FOR COGNATES}**_

_**If any of these are wrong, feel free to beat me over the head with a crowbar(after correcting me).**_

**Sorry if it seems short, wanted to post it before the weekend was officially over. Yeah, so just to warn you guys, the next chapter will be Tori's P.O.V. so you'll have to wait for France, but you get some Poland and the Baltics instead! Seems fair to me. Anywho, thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Well, party people, I'm back! I'm sorry to those of you who I made wait, I truly am. I apparently can't update. ;~; Anyway: chapter three, in Tori's P.O.V. as promised...**

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><p>Viktorija rubbed at her eyes, hoping that her brothers would interpret their puffiness as her being tired versus her having cried for a better part of the afternoon. She climbed the stairwell up to her fifth floor apartment, finding this a better alternative to maybe having to share the elevator with a neighbor. Her cell phone went off in her bag.<p>

She stopped and pulled out her phone, looking at the number. It was Ivan. Viktorija sunk to the floor, beginning to tremble. He wasn't going to be happy with her when he found out that she was going to be home instead of with him. The Lithuanian unconsciously ran her hand over her forearm, lightly brushing across fresh bruises as well as old marks. She continued to stare at the phone until she noticed that it had stopped ringing. She forced herself up, wiping away the few tears she hadn't realized she had shed.

Reaching her apartment, Viktorija hesitated. Ivan would be alone tonight. He might hurt himself with her not there. He needed her with him.

But so did her brothers.

Finding her resolve, Viktorija took a deep breath and opened the door.

"Omigod, Tori. You like actually came home on time!"

The brunette woman was surprised to see her best friend lounging on her sofa, flipping through a fashion magazine. The blonde, Felicija, looked just as surprised to see Viktorija.

"You're not at Derek's?" she asked, setting down her bag.

"Well, you're not at Ivan's," the other retorted, going back to her magazine.

"Māsa, you're home!" Raivis said, popping his head out of the bedroom he shared with his brother. He quickly ran out and wrapped his sister in a hug.

Viktorija tensed at the sudden embrace before hugging back.

"Didn't Felicija tell you that I'd be home early tonight?" she asked, ruffling the boys blonde hair.

"We weren't expecting you to be home _on time_," he replied excitedly.

"Really, you can't blame him."

Viktorija, Raivis, and Felicija looked up to see Eduard standing in the doorway where his brother had been just moments before.

"Hey, like lay off your sister four-eyes." Felicija spat. The two had a very open hatred for each other.

Eduard merely ignored this (which he found was the best method to effectively piss his Polish adversary off) and pushed his glasses further up his nose. "Nice to see you home, õde."

"It's good to see you, too."

Viktorija blinked at how coldly he had revered her. He was like this to everyone, but she was his sister, adopted or not.

"Anyway, Tori, we have to get changed," Felicija sat up and tossed her magazine onto the coffee table, "I'm totally taking you guys out to dinner!"

The blonde pushed the other woman into her bedroom, giggling gleefully as he did so.

"_I'm _picking your outfit," she then called out over her shoulder before closing the door, "Wear something nice!"

"Felicija, wear did you get this money to treat us to dinner? Did you and Derek get into a fight?" the Lithuanian interrogated, "That's why you're over here isn't it?"

"Like, _relax _Tori. Derek just had to work late at the clinic. Paperwork and stuff," the Pole said airily, "Here, wear this."

She spun around and presented a forest green dress with gossamer cap sleeves. Viktorija looked at it skeptically.

"Um, could I wear a cardigan with this?"

"Why? It's totally cute, especially the back," Felicija turned it around, as if Viktorija wasn't aware of having bought the thing and knowing very well of what it looked like.

"Yes, well, I think I might be coming down with something, and with autumn already here…" the brunette insisted, rubbing her arms.

"Kay…" the blonde turned back to the closet and began pawing through it for a sweater,

"Here, this one will look alright with it."

Viktorija smiled and took both the sweater from her friend and quickly changed while the blonde once again began to rifle through the closet that was honestly half her clothes.

"Omigod, I totally forgot I had this over here!" she announced happily, drawing out a sparkly pink dress that Viktorija would never wear even if she didn't have to hide various bruises. The brunette nodded in consent, hurriedly pulling on the white knit cardigan.

About an hour later, after Felicija managed to get Viktorija to put on at least _some_ make up on and to let her do her hair, the two emerged. Eduard and Raivis were sitting on the sofa, the latter wearing a maroon sweater and khakis, nose buried in a two-dollar romance novel; the other typing away on his laptop in a blue button up shirt and black slacks.

"It's about time you two were finished," the Estonian boy said, not looking up from his computer as he shut it down.

"You look really pretty, Tori," Raivis complimented.

"Thank you," the brunette replied, "You two look very handsome yourselves."

"We should really get going," Eduard said, smiling a bit, "I'd like to eat sometime tonight."

"Alright, bossy pants," Felicija countered, "I'll call a cab, although I think one of us should be walking…"

"I heard that!"

"You're lucky I'm letting you came at all!"

And so the quartet descended, Felicija and Eduard bickering the entire way to the restaurant.

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><p><em><strong>Translations<strong>_

_**Māsa {Latvian}**_**- sister**

_**Õde {Estonian}**_**- sister**

**Yerp, I promise that I'll try to update sooner...Thanks to all of you who reviewed, favorited, followed, and read this! Many huggles go out to the lot of you!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello again. I've updated in a reasonable time frame...I think..**

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><p>Climbing out of the cab behind her brothers while Felicija paid the driver, Viktorija found that the surprise certainly did catch her off guard. Before her stood <em>Penelope's Garden<em>, one of the most highly acclaimed restaurants in the city, if not the whole country. This also meant that reservations had to be made _months _in advance.

"Ah, Felicija," Viktorija began timidly, "How exactly are we to get a table?"

"Like, relax, Tori. Derek and I were going to have dinner here with his parents. Of course, they cancelled. Probably because his mom like totally hates me," the blonde rolled her eyes as she said this last part.

"It's hard to see why," Eduard added.

"You know, if you weren't Tori's brother, I would totally kick your-"

"I think we should go inside now," Viktorija quickly interrupted, Raivis nodding eagerly in agreement.

Once inside, Viktorija took in their surroundings. Ivan had taken her here once, when they used to actually go places together. She noted very little change, though she didn't mind.

"How was your day at work, lielā māsa?" Raivis asked, as he did every time he talked to his sister.

"Um," Viktorija stalled while she tried to think of something noteworthy that wouldn't upset the Latvian boy, "Mr. Jones's brother come last night. Dr. Kirkland seems very nice."

"How nice?" Felicija asked suggestively.

"Nice enough," the Lithuanian replied, blushing.

"What is he a doctor of?" Eduard asked, hoping to keep it PG.

"He just finished an internship over in England. He's going to be a veterinarian at the same animal hospital that Derek works at."

"And you know all of this…how?" the Estonian cocked an eyebrow.

"Well, Mr. Jones tends to get a bit talkative sometimes…" his sister replied, looking down at the table.

"Why does Dr. Kirkland have a different last name than Mr. Jones? I thought their mother's name was Williams," the youngest of the group chimed in curiously.

"You three totally don't have the same last names," Felicija pointed out.

"That's different," the Latvian replied, "Brālis and māsa were…you know…"

The table fell into an awkward silence. The three siblings didn't like to talk about their upbringing very often. Felicija took a sip of her water before breaking the silence.

"Who cares what his last name is? He's single right?"

"Felicija!" Viktorija said sternly, trying not to blush again.

"Well, anyone would be an upgrade from Ivan," the Estonian said.

"Eduard," his sister said, more exasperated. Eduard had never liked the Russian. Neither did Raivis, but his was more rooted in fear than dislike.

"Hey, I like totally have to pee. C'mon Tori," Felicija stood up, dragging her friend along with her.

"Your brother totally needs an attitude adjustment," she said once they were out of earshot, "But, I'm kinda almost sick to say that I _totally _agree with him on this one. Ivan's a creep."

"He's not a creep," Viktorija protested, "He's just has his quirks."

The two entered the women's empty bathroom.

"Is hitting you a quirk?" the blonde asked, sounding more serious than the other had ever remembered.

"What?" the brunette replied, straining to keep her voice light. It had worked, but too well, her voice cracked and she squeaked.

Felicija looked at her skeptically as the Lithuanian forced a nervous smile. Viktorija gasped as her elbow was suddenly in the other's grasp. The blonde shoved the sleeve back and presented the bruises already familiar to the brunette.

"I don't think Alfred would have done this."

"How long have you known?" Viktorija's voice was just above a whisper.

"Long enough," Felicija replied shortly, "Listen, Tori, you have to leave this guy be. I hate having to see you like this."

"It's only a few bruises, I-"

"Viktorija Laurinaté, you're going to promise me that you'll never go back to him," the Pole took hold of her friend's shoulder.

The other looked down at the tiled floor. She never wanted this to happen. Ivan wasn't supposed to treat her like this, no one was ever supposed to find out.

"Viktorija, promise me."

"Okay," she choked back a sob, "I promise."

The brunette was pulled into a hug by the blonde.

"You better. I'm totally staying over tonight, by the way."

The Lithuanian let out a noise that was half way between a sob and a giggle. "You're the one telling Eduard."

After the pair had effectively calmed each other down, they went back to the table. On the way, Viktorija managed to run straight into someone rushing for the door.

"Oh, dovanokite."

"Pardon me, Miss," the blonde man apologized simultaneously, in an English accent.

They both seemed to gain recognition at the same time, as they both tried speaking at the same time.

"Miss Laurinaté-"

"Hello, Dr. Kirkland-"

Both smiled and blushed at the awkward exchange.

"Well, Tori, who's your friend?" Felicija asked, nudging her with an elbow.

"Oh, Dr. Kirkland, this is my close friend, Felicija Lukasiewicz," the brunette introduced, "Felicija, this is Dr. Kirkland."

"Arthur will do just fine. Lovely to meet you, Miss Lukasiewicz."

"Right back atcha, doctor," the blonde woman said, "I've heard loads about you."

"Really?"

"Iggy, wait up!" someone, who sounded very familiar as well, shouted across the dining room.

"I'm awfully sorry ladies, but I must dash," the Englishman said, turning and hurrying out of the restaurant.

"Improvement," the Pole whispered to Viktorija.

She started to blush before elbowing the blonde playfully and mumbling "shut up."

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><p><em><strong>Translations<strong>_

_**Māsa {Latvian}**_**- sister**

_**Lielā māsa {Latvian}- **_**big sister**

_**Brālis {Latvian}**_**- brother**

_**Dovanokite {Lithuanian}**_**- Excuse me**

**Welp, there be chapter 4! I hope everyone enjoyed this. I was...concerned about that one part. IDK. Anywho, thank you for reading, reviewing, favoriting, following, etc. See a good majority of you next time(hopefully...)!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello all of you lovely readers out there who are lucky *cough* enough to read my story!**

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><p>Arthur arrived back home as quickly as he could, trying to distance himself from his obnoxious younger brother and that insufferable cousin if his. The nerve of those two, really! They had the audacity to suggest that he, a refined gentleman, would have inappropriate feelings for Miss Laurinaté. And when he defended himself, they were impudent enough to say that he wasn't mature enough to have more than a silly little infatuation!<p>

Given, he had called the Lithuanian woman "love" once or twice, but back home, that was a very acceptable informal greeting. It wasn't as if he didn't find Viktorija unattractive, either. She was a very fetching creature, and Arthur was pretty sure one would have to be dead not to recognize that. She also seemed to be very sweet from what the Englishman could tell, very agreeable…

But his thoughts digress, back to why the American and the frog were complete idiots. Arthur, immature? Please, Alfred tests video games for a living and Francis hasn't had a stable relationship since…well, ever actually. Reading fantasy novels doesn't make one immature. He just happens to like that genre. The various articles of clothing that have unicorns on them were gifts from his grandmother, which he happened to love very much. Turning down one of her gifts would break the poor old woman's heart.

Arthur fumed as he very nearly stomped to the kitchen. A nice cup of tea would probably calm him down. He almost threw the kettle on the stove and slammed cupboards shut as he looked for the tea(which he happened to overlook once, making him even _angrier_).

He leaned against the counter as he waited for the water to boil, taking deep breaths. He had noted that the cupboards seemed a bit bare. He should probably inform Alfred of this so he would give that poor girl some grocery money sometime soon. It was no fun trying to make meals out of nothing, Arthur knew.

The Englishman made a mental shopping list as he walked to his bedroom. After changing into a pair of unicorn covered pajama bottoms(a _gift _from his _grandmother_, mind you) and a grey t-shirt, Arthur grabbed a pen and paper to take with him back to the kitchen. Once there, he found he had a bit more time than anticipated to write down what he wanted for groceries as he realized he forgot to turn the stove on to heat the water. The blonde sighed as he did so, having calmed down greatly since he first stormed in. Speaking of which, shouldn't he's bumbling brother be home by now?

"Hey, Iggy! You home?"

Speak of the devil…

"In here Alfred," Arthur called a bit tiredly, and the American materialized in the doorway.

…and the devil shall appear.

"You okay bro? You looked pretty pissed when you left."

"Well, _bro_," the older man said, pouring the hot water into a mug, "You and our _delightful _cousin certainly hadn't done anything to provoke my foul mood. I do believe that my current demeanor is due, in fact, to the overdone fish I had the displeasure of eating at dinner."

"Are you being sarcastic?" Alfred said. He continued after his brother scoffed, "Well it wouldn't have mattered anyway, I didn't understand, like, half of what you said. Look dude, I'm sorry that your first day here wasn't exactly the best, but-"

"My day was perfectly fine," Arthur remarked, "It was dinner that was a total fiasco."

The American took a moment to process what had been said. Apparently, "fiasco" wasn't grade school vocabulary here in the states.

"Didn't you hide in your room all day?" he eventually replied after a silence long enough for Arthur's tea to finish steeping.

"Perhaps that's how I prefer to spend my time."

"Being alone with a freakin' book?"

"Maybe," Arthur replied coolly, taking a sip of his tea, "Oh, and you might want to restock on groceries. The kitchen seems to be getting awfully low on food."

And with that, the Englishman took his tea and his shopping list to his bedroom, which he didn't emerge from until the following morning.

When he did, he found himself to still be a bit exhausted. But he pulled himself out of bed at a more reasonable time this morning. He had to get used to it by next Wednesday, after all. So Arthur Kirkland, unicorn-pajama-bottoms clad and sleepy eyed, stumbled into the slightly less harsh morning light of the pure white living room, unaware of his severe behead at eight-thirty in the morning.

"Good morning, Dr. Kirkland," the same, cheerful voice from the day before greeted,

"Would you like some breakfast."

"I'll think I'll make it myself, thank you Miss Laurinaté," he replied, giving what could only be interpreted as a very groggy smile. The brunette smiled back, much more genuinely, making Arthur feel a bit guilty at his half-assed attempt at facial expressions.

He wandered into the kitchen, finding that the kettle was already filled with hot water. He was very grateful of this, mostly because it would mean less waiting time for his precious tea, which was basically his lifeblood at this point in the day. Arthur managed to find the bread and work out how to use the toaster before his tea was ready. He turned to slump against the counter, only now becoming aware that Viktorija had followed him and was standing in the doorway, hands clasped in front of her, looking as if she were awaiting orders.

"Can I help you find anything, Dr. Kirkland?" she asked, eager to do something.

"Er-is there any strawberry jam around here, perchance?" he hesitated.

His eyes had widened as he slowly processed the situation. Him. Embarrassing pajamas. Bed head. Couldn't figure the damn toaster for three minutes. Viktorija. Watching the entire time. '_Well bloody done.'_

"Here you are," the brunette chirped, presenting a small jar of deep red fruit preserves. She smiled so sweetly that Arthur took a moment to realize that she was talking to him.

"Oh, um thank you," he replied, chuckling a bit nervously, "Ah, tell me, Miss Laurinaté where is Alfred?"

"Mr. Jones leaves everyday for work at around eight o'clock."

Arthur nodded, taking a longer than normal sip of his tea.

"If you won't be needing me for a couple hours, Dr. Kirkland, I have to go grocery shopping today," Viktorija said after a long silence.

"Actually, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to accompany you," Arthur said, having finished putting jam on his toast, "There are a few things that I would like to get that are probably not to my brother's tastes."

"Oh, I wouldn't mind. You're welcome to join me then, I suppose," she replied timidly, "We'll leave when ever you're ready, Dr. Kirkland."

Arthur took a bite of his toast as he watched her go, chewing slowly as he though over what had just happened. _'It wasn't inappropriate to offer to go grocery shopping with her, was it? No matter, what's done is done.' _

The Englishman quickly finished his breakfast and changed into a tan sweater and a pair of jeans before trying to put his hair into some kind of order.

'_I swear to God,' _he thought, _'Father must have had horrible hair to manage, because he's passed it down to all of his children.'_

Finally giving up on his ever-messy blonde mop, Arthur went out into the sitting room, where he found Viktorija. She had had changed from her uniform into something a bit more casual, a fawn brown knit sweater dress. He paused, a bit awestruck at how breathtaking she looked in casual clothes. '_Just imagine how'd she look in formal attire…'_

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><p><strong>Yeah, well...yeah. Thank you to everyone who can be affiliated with this piece of teh fandom for being so! Laters!<strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello lovelies. Yes I do realize that the last chapter kinda ened all sucky. I can rarely end things and have them be...okay...**

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><p>"Dr. Kirkland, are you alright?" Viktorija asked urgently after she turned to see that the Englishman had blood dripping from his nose. She quickly grabbed a tissue and gave it to him.<p>

"I'm quite alright, thank you," he replied, tilting his head back slightly, "Must the dry air."

The Lithuanian nodded and led Arthur over to the sofa. She held his forearm gingerly as she did so, looking down every so often to assure that nothing was in the way for him to trip on.

After about a minute, Arthur took the tissue away from his nose and smiled inelegantly at Viktorija. "I think the bleeding's stopped. Sorry to have alarmed you, Miss Laurinaté."

She smiled in return, mentally reprimanding herself for overreacting to such a minor injury. She was genuinely concerned for the blonde sitting next to her, but…

"Shall we be going now?" Arthur said, standing up. He offered his hand to the Lithuanian, who flinched a bit before regaining her composure and accepted it, though very cautiously.

The pair walked to the grocery store, where Viktorija was a bit relieved but also wary to have Arthur with her. If she were here by herself, Ivan would surely hone in on her if he saw her, but with Arthur, he might be reluctant to confront her. This also meant that the Englishman might also become the outlet for Ivan's wrath, which made Viktorija highly nervous.

Their conversation to the store was rather thin and trivial, with subjects like the weather. The topic did seem to get more interesting the longer they walked, especially when it turned to how Arthur was liking America so far.

"Well, I haven't really been here long, but it is a bit better than expected," he commented, "I mean, I haven't seen anyone without teeth carrying around a shot gun."

"You don't see too many guns in this part of the city," Viktorija giggled, "Though I do admit, I was expecting something along those lines as well."

"When did you come over from, um, Lithuania, is it?"

"I was born in Lithuania, yes," the brunette said, "I was put into a state run orphanage when I was young."

"Oh," the blonde man rubbed the back of his neck, "Do you mind if I ask why you were put under state care?"

"My biological father was abusive," she replied, looking somewhere across the street, "He…hit me and my mother. Mother took her own life and I was taken into state care after Father had been deemed unfit."

"I'm sorry, Miss Laurinaté, I shouldn't have-"

"That's alright. It's not really news to anyone, really."

The pair walked into the grocery store where Arthur seemed to do everything but hold Viktorija's hand. She tried to attribute this to his never having been here before, but she still smiled every time his arm brushed hers. The Lithuanian realized that she'd be shopping for two very different people for awhile as the blonde filled up his basket with items that varied greatly from what she was getting for her American employer.

"Do you cook often, Dr. Kirkland?" she asked, trying at a lighter attempt for conversation.

"I do, but I'm afraid that I'm not very good at it," he gave a embarrassed smile, "This is something I've just come to realize recently, just before I left London, actually. One of my scones very nearly killed a cat."

Viktorija tried not to laugh, having to turn and walk a little ways down the aisle to grab something else.

"Does Alfred eat a lot of, you know, processed foods?" Arthur inquired.

"Mr. Jones usually only eats at home on his days off, and I usually have the same days off as he does."

"I'll take that as a yes, since I can't really see Alfred using the stove left to his own devices."

"I do know that he can make hamburgers," Viktorija offered. She knew that her boss wasn't exactly intelligent, but he could do some things.

"Well, I suppose that's something," the Englishman mumbled, "Do you like to cook, Miss Laurinaté?"

"Oh, yes," she responded, "I usually make my brothers' lunches. The food at their school is nothing like what we're used to eating, so I usually make them desserts that our mama used to make for us. It's a nice treat for them, or at least I hope so."

"Well, I'm sure they appreciate it greatly. Anything to make them feel more at home," Arthur commented.

"Do you need to get anything else? I'm finished getting everything Mr. Jones needs."

"Yes, I believe I have everything."

They checked out, and Arthur insisted on carrying if not all, then a good majority of the groceries.

"Are you sure you've got all those?" the brunette eyed the bags suspiciously, "I could take one, you don't have to carry all four."

"No, no, I can handle them. I wouldn't be a very good gentleman if I couldn't."

"What is your definition of 'gentleman' exactly, Dr. Kirkland?" Viktorija took one of the bags from him while he struggled to get the door open for her.

"Well, Miss Laurinaté," he said, a bit dissatisfied with her action, "My grandmother always told me that if I wasn't polite to women, that I'd get the business end of her wooden spoon. So I suppose it's just trying my best to be very polite to everyone. Ladies like yourself especially."

"I wouldn't necessarily consider myself a _lady_…" the brunette blushed and, looking down meekly

"I certainly do."

This reply only made Viktorija blush harder. She tried to think of something to say as her pulse pounded in her ears.

"Um, you asked about when I arrived in America," she offered after clearing her throat.

"Yes, I did. How old were you when you came over?"

"It was three days after my nineteenth birthday. I stayed with a friend of the family before I got a job and an alright apartment. The next summer, my brothers came over to stay. Our parents figured we'd have a better living over here than in Latvia."

"I'm guessing you were adopted eventually," the blonde man was trying to watch the brunette's expressions while walking at the same time.

"Yes, Eduard and I were adopted by a Latvian couple when I was seven and he was five. They already had a son, Raivis. He was three and he took to us as his big sister and brother. I had already gotten used to being a big sister to some of the younger children, and Eduard was one who got particularly attached."

"Is Eduard from Lithuania also?"

"No, he was transferred from an Estonian orphanage when he was two, about a year before I arrived. I'm not sure how he ended up in Lithuania, or why our parents decided to adopt from there, but I'm glad that it all happened. I couldn't imagine not having those two around." Viktorija smiled fondly, remembering the day that her parents had come to get her.

~oOo~

_She remembered sitting in the lobby with Eduard while the other children were outside. The two often stayed inside, where Viktorija helped the Estonian boy with his schoolwork. They hadn't even been told that there would be potential parents coming that day, so they were both very surprised when the couple walked in. _

"_Oh, Juris, aren't they precious?"_

_The boy and the girl looked up from their place in the middle of the floor. "Hello," the woman said, "What are you're names?"_

"_I'm Viktorija Laurinaté and this is Eduard Von Bock. Say hello to the nice lady, Eduard."_

"_T-tere."_

_It was_ _about at this time when the three-year-old toddled out from behind his fathers legs. He walked unsteadily over to Eduard and grabbed at his glasses. He gurgled curiously._

"_Nē, nē Raivis."_

_The toddler looked back at his parents. He looked to Eduard and patted his face gently. Then he turned to Viktorija and gave her a sloppy kiss on the nose._

"_Brālis, māsa." he cooed, planting himself firmly between them._

_Eduard and Viktorija looked at each other in confusion. Neither of them spoke Latvian, so they had no idea what the child was saying. It seemed that the parents spoke fluent Lithuanian._

"_He's picked you to be his new brother and sister," the father explained, "And I don't think he's changing his mind."_

_That was the day that the three of them had become nearly inseparable, the Latvian boy insisting on holding his new siblings hands as they went into the office to sign all the papers and even in the car._

~oOo~

"It must be nice to have brothers that appreciate you," Arthur commented, pulling Viktorija out of her reverie, "Alfred's insufferable and Matthew is very capable of taking care of himself. I suppose it wouldn't help that we all grew up in different countries…"

"How did that happened?" the brunette inquired.

"My father…got around, you might say. I wouldn't be surprised if I had more half-brothers or sisters. He met my mother in London, left, and then went to Canada and stuck around for maybe two or three years after the twins were born. He took Alfred with him to America, and left Matthew and their mother in Canada. He would come around every other year to get us all together, because I suppose realizing that he had helped bring three children into the world changed him. He usually took us to a beach somewhere in Spain."

"Well, at least the took the time to see all of you and get you and your brothers together," Viktorija offered.

"I do suppose you're right. I find it pleasant that you're so optimistic," the Englishman said as they arrived back at the apartment building.

The Lithuanian looked down once more as her cheeks began to turn pink.

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><p><em><strong>Translations<strong>_

_**Tere {Estonian}**_**- Hello**

_**Nē {Latvian}**_**- No**

_**Brālis {Latvian}- **_**Brother**

_**Māsa {Latvian}- **_**Sister**

**Hey, this chapter was really long. The longest one I've written so far. I Honestly thought it would never end. So I ended it abruptly. Yeah! Thanks to everyone who's still reading this by the way. I'd like to hear what you guys think, so don't be afraid to bruise my ego a bit. I can take it, I swear! ((Prussia: No she can't.)) Shut up! ((But you said so yourself today that you were a delicate flower-)) I said shut up, OKAY?**

**...I think I may be schizophrenic.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hi everybody! Long time no see, eh? Anyway, I apologize for the uber late update...I'll try harder, I swear. New Year's revolution and all. :)**

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><p>'<em>Go on, just ask her,' <em>Arthur thought as he stood in the elevator next to Viktorija, _'Taking her to lunch isn't too cheeky. Just get on with it!'_

Just as the Englishman was about to open his mouth, his cell phone vibrated in his front pocket. _'Damn.'_

He opened the text message that Alfred had sent him: _hey bro meet me for lunch micky d's._

"Oh lovely," he muttered as he read it.

"Is something the matter?" the brunette asked, her brow furrowing in concern.

"Just Alfred wanting to take me out for fast food for lunch," Arthur sighed as snapped his phone shut and put it back in his pocket.

"McDonald's, I'm guessing?" the Lithuanian smiled knowingly, "You should go. Spend sometime with your brother. From the way that he talked about you, he missed you a lot, Dr. Kirkland."

"Really? He insulted me before I was here for even two minutes!"

"Maybe that's how he shows he cares. I'm sure Mr. Jones was only teasing you."

"I should really help you put these groceries away…" the blonde man suggested, nearly desperate for an excuse not to see his brother until it was completely unavoidable.

"Your offer is tempting," Viktorija said, "but if I've managed on my own before, I can manage now. Go have lunch with your brother."

The elevator stopped. The brunette quickly grabbed the bags that Arthur had set down and got off. Before she hopped off, she pressed the ground floor button.

"Have a nice time with Mr. Jones!" she called as the doors closed.

"Why the _hell_ did I let that happen?" the man chastised himself after the elevator jerked to life.

When he was back in the lobby, he got out his cell phone and called Alfred.

"Yo, Iggy! Are you actually coming?" the American sounded boisterous even over the phone.

"I'm afraid I am. Miss Laurinaté did everything but throw me down the elevator shaft to persuade me, though."

"Dude, _Tori_ made you? She is so totally awesome! Do I know how to pick 'em or what? Oh, and you're totally whipped by the way."

"What?" Arthur honestly didn't know what his brother was talking about sometimes. "Never mind. Now where is this McDonald's that you want to meet me at?"

"Just turn left after you leave the building and cross the street at the end of the block. It's like the second building over. See you there!"

"Yes, goodbye."

The Englishman hung up wearily. If only a short conversation on the phone with Alfred wore him out, how was he ever going to make it through lunch?

~oOo~

"So what were you and Tori doing when she forced you come eat with me?" Alfred interrogated as the two waited in line to order.

"We had just gotten back from grocery shopping when you texted me," Arthur replied, rolling his eyes.

"Oh," Alfred said , his face falling, "Is that all?"

"What do you mean 'is that all'?"

"I don't know. Did you take her out for coffee or something?"

"We've only known one another for barely two days Alfred."

"I've taken girls out for coffee before I even knew their name, bro."

"Well, perhaps I have more sophistication than you do, little brother," the Englishman retorted with a bit more bite then he intended.

"I'm sorry I don't understand the proper way to _court a lady_," the younger spat back, looking smug with his comeback.

"I'm not _courting _anyone," his brother replied through gritted teeth.

"Well, maybe you should hurry up and start before your goo-goo eyes fall out of your head."

"I don't make goo-goo eyes at anybody. And might I remind you that Miss Laurinaté has a boyfriend?"

"I never said anything about you making goo-goo eyes at _Miss Laurinaté_."

"You certainly implied it."

"Guilty conscious much?"

Arthur stood in a partially stunned silence. How in the hell did Alfred figure these things out? Don't misunderstand, he didn't have any of _those _feelings for Viktorija, but maybe he could get to know her better…

"Why did you even invite me here? You know I don't like fast food," the older man chided, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I don't know," his brother replied, "Maybe I just wanted to spend time with my big brother…"

The Englishman was again struck speechless. Except this time, he was more worried about how his relationship was with his brother instead of with his relationship with a woman he barely knew.

He was about to say something when he realized that they had managed to make it to the front of the line. This also reminded him that the two were in public and had been arguing rather loudly.

The brothers ate (Alfred a Big Mac, Arthur decided upon a side salad) in what was a rather tense silence. About halfway through his…salad, the older blonde looked at his brother and was a bit guilty at what he saw.

"You know," he said, trying to sound light, "this is the first time I've seen you eat a hamburger and be so glum about it."

Alfred just glared at him over the rim of his glasses. Arthur smiled awkwardly.

"Miss Laurinaté said that you talked a lot about me," he offered. Then when receiving the same response as before, he added, "Probably didn't mention how much of a mindless twat I was."

"That's self-explanatory," the younger finally replied, "Besides, you probably didn't tell all your limey buddies about your dickhead of a little brother."

"You'd be surprised, all the things I say about you," Arthur retorted.

The two shared an apologetic smile, neither one of them needing to actually say sorry to the other. Come to think of it, they never actually had a proper apology between the two of them.

"Hey, you said you went grocery shopping, right?" the American chirped, back to his cheerful self.

"Yes."

"Well then, I'll make you dinner tonight!"

"What exactly will you be making?" his brother asked tentatively.

"Hamburgers!"

"I should have known…"

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><p><strong>I liked writing this chapter. Most likely because I could draw from real life inspiration from my little brother and myself. Except our arguments tend to go to blows before we make up...Thanks to everyone who reads this! See y'all next time(maybe)!<strong>


	8. Chapter 8

**So, you guise still out there? Heheh. I promise I will update more…but then again, I've said this before, no?**

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><p>"Tori, like get up."<p>

"Mmm…what time is it?" Viktorija rolled over rubbing at her eyes. It had to be late morning. Felicija wouldn't be here otherwise.

"Seven," the blonde woman said, already rifling through her friend's closet for clothes that she might have been separated with.

"Really?" the Lithuanian sat up quickly, shocked that Felicija was in her apartment at seven in the morning.

"You wanna go shopping with me today? Derek totally gave me a bunch of money."

"I have work to go to work," the brunette shoved off her covers, pushing herself out of bed. She now knew why the blonde had dropped by so early. When it came to shopping, it was never too early for Felicija.

"But Toriiiii," her friend whined, throwing herself down where the other woman was just laying.

"Felicija, I'll be late enough as it is," she replied, hurriedly pulling on a long-sleeved shirt.

"Like Alfred cares if you're late." Felicija commented, rolling onto her stomach. "Then again, I wouldn't want to miss a minute of _Dr. Kirkland_."

Viktorija tried to ignore the blonde, continuing to get dressed as a light pink dusted her cheeks. Within five minutes, she was completely ready for work, listening to Felicija complain and/or make inappropriate suggestions about her employer's brother every second.

"_Goodbye_, Felicija," she said, pulling on her sneakers and stopping her between sentences, "Make sure the boys grab their lunches."

"Okay, whatever," the blonde replied, following her friend to the door. "But if I find out that Ivan kidnaps you or something, I will _not _hesitate in calling the cops."

The brunette shook her head and smirked as she closed the apartment door behind her. Her smile faded as she thought of a possible encounter with the Russian. It had been about a week since she had last talked to him, and she hadn't seen him once either. The fact that they hadn't run into each other was a bit amazing really.

Viktorija arrived at the penthouse about half an hour later to find that the boisterous American and his more subdued English brother had managed to make breakfast without having to call the firehouse. Given, it looked as though it was only eggs and toast. It made the Lithuanian smile to see them eating at the same table and not arguing. It didn't matter that neither of them were morning people and didn't say much of anything this early, but it was a start.

"Good morning Mr. Jones, good morning Dr. Kirkland," she greeted with her smile still in place, "I'm sorry I'm late-"

"No big." the younger of the two said, taking a large gulp of his coffee, "It gave me and Iggy the morning together. And look! We're both still alive!"

"Astoundingly," his brother added. "Miss Laurinaté, please never let the two of us cook together ever again."

The arrival of the housekeeper had obviously made the two men more awake. Of course, she contributed this humbly to what she wasn't here to witness, their adventure in the kitchen.

"Which reminds me," Arthur spoke up again with a final sip of his tea, "We should probably go finish cleaning that up."

"Oh yeah!" Alfred said, picking up his plate and leading the way, his brother doing the same.

The brunette curiously followed, honestly wondering what the brothers could have possibly done to the-

"Oh," she gasped as she saw what exactly had happened. The two men sent apologetic smiles in her direction as Arthur wiped at something white on the counter and Alfred picked up a broken piece of dishware on the floor.

Alfred pushed his glasses up his nose with his wrist. "We were gonna make flapjacks, you know, but…"

"We were a bit too ambitious." Arthur finished, carrying the towel with the broken glass to shake it out over the garbage can. "We decided on something simpler."

"But that kinda backfired too." The younger added.

Viktorija surveyed the mess, her surprise fading to slight amusement. The two had seemed to manage to spill everything in the kitchen at least once, various dishes piled in the sink. She smiled as stepped further into the room, shooing both men out.

"I can handle this. You finish getting ready Mr. Jones, or else you'll be late as well."

"Aw, crap!" the American shouted as he looked at the clock on the stove, "Kiku's gonna kill me!" He bolted to his bedroom, peeling off his Captain America pajama shirt as he went.

"Now, Miss Laurinaté, it would be rude of me not to help." Arthur insisted.

"It would be rude of you not to let me do my job, Dr. Kirkland," Viktorija retorted, "Now go on. I've dealt with much more of a mess than this."

The Englishman stood in a somewhat of a shocked silence. He watched her as she began to clean up the mess he and his brother had made. When she realized that he was still standing there, she stopped what she was doing.

"Dr. Kirkland, _please_ go do something else."

"…Alright." The man sighed, understanding that he wouldn't be permitted to help at all. He walked back to his room, deciding to change after a chapter or so of his book and a shower.

When Viktorija was certain that he had left and wasn't going to pop back in unexpectedly, she rolled up her sleeves and started to clean the kitchen properly.

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><p><strong>I finished writing this chapter and realized that it may be mostly filler…. I would love to here err body's opinion on that in reviews! (I feel the need to go out laughing. I have no idea why.) AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!<strong>


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello again! I've kept to my word so far and updated in a time frame under three months!**

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><p>When Arthur got out of the shower and got dressed, he went back to the kitchen to check on Tori's progress. He found her doing the dishes, humming a tune that he didn't recognize. Once in a while she would softly sing a word or two in what he assumed was Lithuanian. He watched her for a moment, standing silently in the doorway, amazed at how clean the kitchen was compared to only a few hours ago.<p>

"Oh, Dr. Kirkland!" the brunette yelped in surprise, drawing his attention back to her. The knife she was washing bounced on the floor after she nicked herself with the blade. She quickly wiped her hands on her apron as the Englishman rushed to her.

"I'm so sorry," he quickly apologized, taking her injured hand, "Let me see ..."

He heard Viktorija's breath hitch and looked up to see her eyes wide and filled with terror, her complexion pale. She had stiffened under his touch, beginning to tremble. The woman reminded Arthur of a cornered animal. His eyes drifted back to her hand, noticing the yellowing purple and blue marks that spread out across her bare arms.

Before the Englishman could process anything, Viktorija had slipped out of his hold and disappeared. He stared into space completely astonished. His brain was slowly piecing together the puzzle, bringing the whole picture into focus. The way she acted after Ivan came to the apartment, the telephone conversation, her timid demeanor… He should have realized sooner. The sound of a door shutting brought him out of his reverie.

Arthur rushed out of the kitchen, pursuing the woman. Having left the apartment, he found himself alone in the corridor, the Lithuanian no where in sight.

"_Shit." _He inwardly cursed, jogging in the direction of the elevator. Seeing that it was not in use, he checked the stairwell. When this proved to be futile, Arthur ran a hand through his still damp hair. He trudged back to the apartment, feeling hollow inside. He found himself thinking of the worst possible situations after not finding Viktorija.

Arthur had managed to drag himself to his room, pausing with his hand on the doorknob, closing his eyes and softly banging his head against the door. "Stupid" he murmured, hitting his head harder against the wood.

Green eyes fluttered open as he heard a muffled sob coming from the bathroom. The Brit looked at the homogeneous door at the end of the hall, slowly approaching as he heard another miserable gasp. He tried the door knob before rapping lightly, waiting for a response. The soft sounds of crying he had recently become aware of had now faded, making Arthur worry only more.

"Viktorija…" He pronounced her first name for the first time carefully, his voice barely above a whisper. He wished he could have said it under happier circumstances. "Viktorija, open the door."

Arthur waited for what felt like a millennia before he heard the click of the lock, the sound magnified in the dead silence of the entire penthouse. Viktorija appeared in the doorway, eyes downcast and cheeks tearstained. The pair remained silent for a long moment, neither of them knowing how to proceed.

"May I?" The Englishman spoke first, holding his arms out sheepishly for a hug. The brunette merely nodded, and the distance between the two has quickly vanished. Viktorija buried her face in the blonde man's chest, her fingers curling into the fabric there. Arthur rubbed circles on her back, trying the only thing he knew to calm her down.

After the stillness stretched on for what must have been more than three minutes, the Brit heaved a sigh before breaking the relative silence.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah," was the brunette's reply, an understanding that the two could now break apart.

"Viktorija," Arthur articulated carefully, "Will you tell me where those marks came from?"

He could see the tears beginning to well in her olive green eyes. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, gently leading her to the resentfully bright living room. The two sat on the sofa, Arthur giving Viktorija her space, but holding her hand for comfort. She took a deep breath before wiping at her eyes.

"Ivan," she began, stopping to let out a shaky breath, "he is…fragile."

Arthur had a vague idea where this was going. He knew that people often blamed themselves for being abused, trying to protect the person responsible at all costs. He remained silent in his reverie, coaxing her to go on.

"He doesn't know how to express his anger. He might end up hurting himself if…if…" The woman trailed off, blinking as more tears trailed down her face. The Englishman patted her hand, trying to be of some help. He grabbed a tissue and offered it to her.

"It's not his fault." Viktorija choked out between sobs.

She was beginning to curl in on herself, trying to make her figure as small as she felt. Arthur wrapped in a hug as he did before, literally giving the brunette a shoulder to cry on. He ran his hand over her hair, trying to calm her down. He held her like he would a child, feeling almost as terrible as he perceived she did.

"It's not _your_ fault," he told her after a moment. "Is it a dog's fault that he gets kicked? Or a cat's that she hasn't been fed in weeks?"

These questions made Viktorija fall quiet. "I guess not," she replied softly.

Arthur gently pushed her up by her shoulders, looking her straight in the eye. "You're not going back there. I don't care if I have to physically stop you, but your not seeing Ivan ever again."

The Lithuanian let out a small laugh. "You sound just like Felicija. I've already promised her I would stay away from him."

The two sat in the hush of the sunlit living room, both of them feeling better considerably. Arthur made sure the woman was finished crying before looking down at his watch.

"Good." The blonde heaved a sigh before standing up. "Now, I believe that it's about time for lunch. Come on. We'll go somewhere."

"Oh, Dr. Kirkland, there's no need to do that." Viktorija said quickly, standing up after him.

"Nonsense, of course there is." he replied, waving a hand dismissively. "I think you should get to take a proper break after…what just happened."

"B-but," she paused, trying to find a reason to protest the man's generosity, "I'm still in my uniform."

"There's a clothing store just around the corner. My treat." The Englishman was unshakable in his resolve. He usually was more subtle about it, but he was a bit determined and didn't want to give Alfred or anyone else the time to invite him somewhere else.

The brunette just stood where she was, not wanting Arthur to spend any more money on her than he already was planning on.

"Excuse me." she said disappearing out of the room. She returned in dressed in a pair of jeans that were no doubt stashed in her bag. She still wore the long sleeved shirt that was under the uniform dress provided to her by the agency had provided.

"Are we ready?" Arthur offered him his arm after handing her her jacket.

Viktorija took it carefully, offering a small smile to her escort. The blonde man mirrored the expression, trying not to betray the fact that he was absolutely giddy inside.

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><p><strong>I'm not sure how good this chapter is…BUT! Good news everyone! This is the last chapter in single digits, so the next one will be in DOUBLE DIGITS! It may not be exciting for y'all, but I'm super excited! \^0^**


	10. Chapter 10

**Ello, lovelies! I think you're all awesome for sticking with it this far!**

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><p>Arthur was walking on air when he got home with Viktorija, positively the happiest he had ever been during his time in America, if not his entire life. Of course, his good mood wouldn't be permitted to last, as he discovered by a text from his idiot brother: <em>francis is comin over 4 dinner srry bro.<em>

The Brit, having checked his phone after the brunette had left the room to change back into her uniform. He told her he would leave her to her work, explaining he didn't want to be a bother and excused himself to his room. He didn't come out until he heard Alfred laughing boisterously at a joke that was most likely inappropriate.

When Arthur emerged into the living room, he found that Viktorija had left and Francis and Alfred sitting on the sofa. The Frenchman spotted him almost immediately, not giving him any time to escape.

"Bonjour, mon ami." He greeted in French, only doing so because he knew it bothered his cousin.

"Frog," Arthur replied, with notably less malice than usual, surprising both men seated on the sofa.

"Hey, you feelin' alright?" Alfred asked, seriously considering calling 911.

"Yes…" the Brit said, walking over to the other two and taking a seat next to Alfred, "Why wouldn't I be?"

"No reason, other than the civility," Francis stated, with as much concern as the American, "Are you _sure _you're okay?"

"Yes, and for the last time," Arthur huffed a sigh and sunk back into the sofa. "There's just a lot on my mind."

While Arthur was in his room, the events of the day had finally caught up with him. Not only the lovely afternoon he spent with Viktorija, but what he had discovered about Ivan. What had happened to the poor, sweet Lithuanian by that Russian monster. It troubled him how he hadn't figured it out sooner, how it was happening for awhile and no one had noticed. Or if they did, hadn't taken action against it. His heart truly did feel as though it had cracked when he found the bruises on her arms.

"Well, I better go start on dinner. I haven't gotten to cook for mon cousin favori in a long time." Francis announced, standing up and heading toward the kitchen.

Alfred watched his brother, who had begun to stare off into space, for a moment before shrugging and walking around the coffee table to turn on his PlayStation. Arthur didn't even notice his brother had begun to play "Shadows of the Damned" until he heard what was possibly the worst joke he had ever heard.

"I'm a Mexi-_can_, not a Mexi-_can't_."

What was probably worse was how much Alfred laughed afterwards, being so lost in his amusement that he wasn't paying attention to the game and his character died.

"Aw, dammit," the man (boy) whined, realizing what had just happened. Arthur took that as his cue to leave.

Arthur was about to go back to his room, pausing for a moment. He then changed his course, heading into the kitchen.

"Francis," he said cautiously, "Could I…could I talk to you?"

The Frenchman looked up from his cooking, wiping his hands on a small towel. His expression was a strange mixture of surprise, concern, and amusement.

"Oui, what is it you want to talk about?"

"Well…" Arthur stalled, rubbing the back of his neck, "You know about woman and stuff, right?"

"Ohonhonhon~" Francis chuckled, stirring some kind of sauce in a shallow pan, "That is one of my areas of expertise, oui. What is it you want to know?"

"How do you know if you, you know, really…like someone?" The Englishman felt like he was having "the talk" all over again, except this was more embarrassing tenfold.

"Ah, you wish to know when you are in amor, no?" The older raised an eyebrow at his cousin before continuing. "May I ask who is the object of your affection?"

"No. Who said anything about me liking anyone?"

"Really, Arthur, I think you've realized how transparent you questions are." Francis sighed, "But considering I respect your need for confidentiality, I won't press you to tell me you are _smitten _with Mademoiselle Laurinaté."

When Arthur tried to sputter out an objection, Francis chuckled, reveling in the Briton's embarrassment.

"You do know she has a boyfriend, no?"

"Of course I know that."

"You also know that said boyfriend is Ivan Braginski, no?"

"I am all too aware of that, you insufferable frog." The reply was dark, his tone going completely unnoticed by the other man.

"Well, that's one way to talk to someone you should be grateful to." Francis said with faux indignation. "Perhaps I'll just leave you to your own devices."

"Alright, fine. I'm sorry," the younger grumbled.

"Qoui? I Didn't quite catch that."

"I'm sorry, okay?!"

"Ah, that was lovely to hear from you." The Frenchman looked very pleased with himself. "Now, back to your lady love. You must ask yourself a series of important questions." He paused as he added a few things to the saucepan that Arthur didn't care to pay attention to. "Do you think about her often?"

"Constantly." Arthur blurted out.

"Ohonhon~ What a lovesick little boy you are. Next, does your heart beat faster when you see or even think about her?"

"A bit."

"Now, your thoughts about her. Do you have any fantasies starring this woman?"

"You're a pervert," Arthur shot back, narrowing his eyes at the other man.

"I could not help myself, mon ami. But most importantly, what would you give for her? Your body, mind, and soul, give up all of this for her eternal bliss?"

Arthur let this question sink in. Would he give those things up for Viktorija? He ruminated for a moment longer before answering. "I think I would, if she'd let me."

"There you have it," Francis said simply, "You are completely, hopelessly in love. I would tell you to go to her, but I wouldn't even send my worst enemy, who, coincidently is you, to the death that Braginski would surely deliver."

Arthur got up to leave, stopping for a moment in the doorway. "Thank you…frog." His tone was almost affectionate.

Francis looked up at him with a smirk, more friendly than his usual cruel or suggestive ones directed towards his cousin. "Think nothing of it, mon petit mouton noir."

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><p>Viktorija had enjoyed her afternoon with Arthur. They ended up in a restaurant with an outdoor café, the sunshine chasing away the bite of autumn in the air. They ended up talking a lot, which was impressive, considering how shy she usually was. The pair had walked around the city for a while, the Lithuanian showing him where various shops and buildings were, the Englishman holding her hand the entire time. She was almost sad that she had to finish up her work. Of course, Arthur had insisted to finish her chores up later, but he had been too kind already. Unfortunately, he excused himself and went to his room after discovering his cousin was going to be joining them for dinner.<p>

The brunette was lost in her thoughts looking back on the day, a small grin on her lips as she walked off the elevator in the building's lobby. She wasn't paying attention as to where she was going, and bumped into a rather large figure.

"I'm sorry," she automatically blurted out.

"Viktorija," a familiar voice said, making the woman's blood run cold, "I haven't seen you in a while, da?"

Looking up, she could feel all color drain from her face as she began to tremble as she took in the cold violet eyes that had found her once again. They were as cold and unfeeling as ever. Viktorija swallowed hard as she took a step back from the dark, dangerous figure looming over hers.

"I-Ivan," she stuttered, casting her eyes toward the floor, "I…um…"

"You can tell me all about why I haven't seen you in a week upstairs."

The Russian grabbed her arm and towed her with him back into the elevator. The man's grip on her arm tightened the closer they got to Ivan's floor, fresh tears springing to her eyes. Viktorija knew what was going to happen once they got to his apartment. And she was completely terrified.

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><p><em><strong>Translations<strong>_

_**Bonjour mon ami {French}- Hello my friend**_

_**Mon cousin favori {French}- My favorite cousin**_

_**Oui {French}- Yes**_

_**Amor {French}- Love**_

_**Mademoiselle {French}- Miss**_

_**Qoui? {French}- What?**_

_**Mon petit mouton noir {French}- My little black sheep**_

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><p><strong>DUNDUNDUN! Yeah, that was stupid…. Anyway~ I hope you guys are enjoying the story, even though I practically beg for reviews at the end of every chapter(which doesn't seem to be working). My author notes are kinda strange too….This fic may be nearly over, perhaps three or four chapters left. ;~; On the bright side, it'll mean I've actually finished a story…EVER! I kinda promised you all France awhile ago and never delivered, so I hope this make up for that. Wow, long AN today. Thank you all for reading, please continue to do so! 'KAY I LOVE YOU BUH-BYE! (Props to whoever knows what video game Alfred's playing!) **


	11. Chapter 11

After the three men had enjoyed their made by Francis (not that a certain Englishman would admit it), the Frenchman stayed for only half an hour afterward, saying he needed his beauty rest. Once he was gone, Alfred and Arthur were left alone sitting on the sofa as before. Conversation was attempted, but the younger blonde was staring longingly at his various gaming consoles.

"I think I'll go read," Arthur said, getting up and stretching.

"Okay, bro," Alfred replied. His brother was impressed he waited until he was out of sight before he switched his video games on.

Arthur shuffled to his room, actually tired out from the day he had. Either that, or Francis had drugged him. He honestly wouldn't put it past him. Settling down in his armchair, he began reading one of the books he brought with him. It was an epic about a knight who risks life and limb to save a princess who is under a wicked spell cast upon her by an evil enchanter. The Briton didn't care how juvenile it was, he thoroughly enjoyed such stories. He was left in peace for about an hour until he heard heavy foot falls coming up the hallway.

"Arthur!" Alfred yelled, bursting through the door, "Guess what's on!"

His brother sighed, marking his place in his book and setting it down. "I don't know, what?"

"James Bond! C'mon, watch it with me!" The American bounded up to the other man, looking excited as a puppy. Arthur was positive if he had a tail, it would be wagging.

"Alright, I suppose." The older brother stood up, acting like he didn't want to watch the movie, but in all honesty, he thought 007 was really cool.

The movie was "From Russia with Love" with the best Bond there was: Sean Connery. The two men had agreed on this, the first thing they had in a while, and were quiet for the entire movie. When the credits rolled, they both stretched and yawned.

"Isn't James Bond awesome?" Alfred asked, his back popping as he stretched.

"Yes, he's quite the gentleman when he's not blowing things up." Arthur replied.

"Dude, his superpower's, like, being kick-ass!"

"You don't always need superpowers, you know."

"I think everyone has superpowers, yo. Some people just can't figure out what theirs are."

"Oh really? What's my superpower, then?" Arthur raised a brow skeptically.

"I don't know, but it's not cooking."

The older roller his eyes, yawning and getting up from the couch, ready to go to his room. As he walked by the phone, it rang. He looked at the clock and then at Alfred still sitting on the couch, confused. He was wearing the same expression. Who on God's green earth would be calling at well past eleven o'clock?

"Hello?" Alfred had picked up the phone, his puzzled expression deepening as he listened to the caller. "Hey, hey, slow down. Just take a deep breath, I'm sure it's-"

Arthur watched as his brother's face paled. He let out a shaky sigh before nodding. He chewed his lip before answering.

"Yeah, come over. We'll talk when you get here," he paused as the other person spoke again, "No, they better stay at home. See you in a few."

He hung up the phone and ran a hand through his hair. Arthur watched his brother for a moment before speaking.

"What's the matter? Who was that?"

The younger looked up at him, looking more serious than Arthur had ever remembered.

"That was Felicija," he replied slowly, "Tori didn't get home tonight."

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><p>Green eyes stared blankly forward, all hope that they had previously held now replaced by fear and despair. Viktorija had no idea what time it was, having given up sleeping. Every time she fell into an uneasy slumber, she would be jerked awake by even the slightest movement of the Russian lying next to her. She let out a shaky breath and moved into a sitting position on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb Ivan. Watching him intently, she eased herself off the bed and ghosted into the living room.<p>

She reached into her bag and pulled out her cell phone. The screen illuminated the brunette's fresh bruises and dried blood caked on her forehead and in her hair. The cut above her eyebrow stung as she knit her brow, bleeding anew while she scanned the thirty-seven messages on her phone from Felicija. As they became more recent, they became more desperate. She'd been in this situation before. She was about to turn off the phone and crawl back next to Ivan before he woke up and "punished" her some more, when the screen blink with a new message. It was Felicija: _im going to alfreds._

Viktorija stared at the phone in her hands, dumbfounded and not knowing what to do next. She stayed like that for a long while, her brain slowly catching up to what was happening. She stood up, needing to hold the edge of a chair to stop her head from whirring, and took her bag to the door. As silently as she could manage, she pulled it open. The door creaked loudly in the darkness, making the woman wince and freeze immediately in her actions. When she was certain Ivan was still asleep, she slipped out of the apartment and into the hallway. As she pulled the door shut behind her, Viktorija let out a trembling breath before walking in the direction the elevator.

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><p>Ivan stood in the doorway of his bedroom, his silhouette tall and foreboding in the dim light from the street lamps outside the window. Having watched Viktorija-<em>his <em>Viktorija- steal away from his keep, the small smile had melted from his face.

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><p><strong>Hey, hey, hey! Sorry I haven't been…active at all on here, but I made you guys a chapter to make up for it! This fic is over a year old, but I'm not gonna let it just fade into the archives of fan without at least being finished! I don't care how long it takes. I don't care if I'm just writing it more for myself now than anyone else because I'm a super slow updater and probably have lost my entire band of readers! I WILL NOT LET THIS THING DIE! FOR NARNIA!<strong>


	12. Chapter 12

Alfred sat awkwardly next to Felicija, holding her hand in an attempt to calm her. The Polish woman had been here in the apartment for a little less than twenty minutes, hysterical and unintelligible for the first five. She was now wiping her face with the already damp tissue in her hand, coming to the end of her story a second time, slowly so Alfred and Arthur could understand.

"And, she like, won't answer her phone- It totally scares me, we have no idea where she could be."

"I'm sure she's fine," Alfred reassured, patting her hand, "Tori's a tough chick."

"She's probably with _Ivan_," Felicija said the name with so much distaste, it was as though even saying it made her feel dirty.

Arthur, who was in the kitchen, came out at this moment carrying hot mugs of tea for himself and Felicija. He had heard the revulsion in her voice when she said Ivan's name. He was surprised at himself to be fiercely disgusted as well.

"Here you go," he said in a polite, almost paternal fashion. He felt extremely bad and could sympathize with her. Ever since she called the apartment, Arthur had been getting cold sweats and horrible scenarios running through his thoughts, worry settling in his stomach like a lead weight.

"You don't know she's with him," Alfred offered.

"Oh, I do," Felicija said, hostility permeating through her anxiety, "He's been horrible to her ever since they've been together. He started by putting her down and making her feel like nothing. Do you know what he does to her now? He _hits _her! She promised me she wouldn't go back or even talk to him. But she's there now. He's going to kill her, I swear to God!"

"Now, hold o-" Alfred was interrupted by his older brother speaking.

"No, she's right. I'm almost certain that he abuses her. The signs are much the same in humans as they are in animals. She's timid and flinches if you even move in her direction. Also, I've seen marks on her arms…"

Felicija looked up and caught Arthur's gaze. She had seen them too.

"You knew…?" she whispered, "And you didn't _do _anything?"

"It seems that you have known longer than I have, Miss Lukasiewicz," he retorted, "And as you've suggested, Viktorija is with Ivan now."

Suddenly, a soft knock came at the door. The three people looked at each other before Alfred stood up.

"I'll get it."

The other two watched as he got up, tiredly running a hand through his hair. When he opened the door, Viktorija stood on the other side, looking sheepish and meek. Both Felicija and Arthur stood up upon seeing her, the blonde woman rushing to envelop her best friend in a spine crushing hug.

"Ohmigawd, I've been worried sick! Like, where have you been?" Felicija interrogated the Lithuanian as she dragged her inside, "Ohmigawd, what happened to your head?"

The brunette's hand went up to her forehead, blushing as she continued to stare at the floor.

"It's-it's only a little knick…" she said quietly, "I, uh, should call Eduard and Raivis…"

She pulled out her phone and drifted slowly toward the kitchen as she dialed. Felicija followed, looking very protective over her. Arthur and Alfred stood there looking at each other dumbfounded, the younger sibling still holding the door agape.

"Oh god…she…she…" Alfred stammered.

"Looks like some one's hit her?" Arthur said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah." The younger looked down, shutting the door. He looked as though he might be sick. He almost stumbled as he made his way to the sofa, nearly tossing himself down onto it. "Wow."

Arthur took a deep breath and sat down next to him.

"You look down right poorly," he commented.

"What?"

"Sick," Arthur elaborated, "You look sick."

"Oh," he paused for a moment, "We should call the cops."

"That seems like a good idea, but we really don't have anything to go on if Tori doesn't want to turn Ivan in."

"Hmm, I guess that's true…"

The two men sat in silence. Alfred stared off into space, probably trying to comprehend what was going on. Arthur kept an eye on the doorway Felicija and Viktorija had disappeared through. Many things were going through his mind. Mostly he was enraged that anyone would ever do that to Viktorija. She didn't deserve that kind of treatment. No one did.

Arthur stood when they reentered the room, watching Viktorija with particular interest.

"Eduard and Raivis are spending the night with a friend," Felicija explained briefly, "I figured it would be, like, for the best if Tori stayed here tonight. I'm totally staying with her too."

Alfred looked over at them when he heard this, kinda staring at Felicija with a gob smacked look on his face. Viktorija looked a bit surprised at her friend's statement as well.

"Felicija," she said quietly, "Mr. Jones didn't offer, it's rude to stay…"

The American quickly jumped up. "No, of course you can stay here! It's just, um, I was trying to think of where you would sleep."

"They can sleep in my room," Arthur offered, ever gentlemanly, "I'll sleep out here on the couch."

Viktorija looked uncomfortable at this suggestion as well.

"You don't have to-"

"Please, I insist," he interrupted her, "It's no trouble at all."

"Well, now that that's settled," Alfred said, looking very relieved, "I guess it's about time we all turn in. Goodnight guys!"

He bounded toward his room, slamming the door. The door then opened again and then shut more quietly. Arthur shook his head, nearly smiling. His younger brother had always done that when he didn't mean to slam a door. The Brit noticed that the two woman stood aloof, neither of them saying anything as they watched Alfred.

"Ah, yes, come with me. I can offer you some of my clothes for pajamas, if you don't mind them being a little loose," he said, motioning for them to follow him to his room.

Felicija looked extremely thankful. "Ugh, _thank god!_ I totally didn't wanna wear this to bed."

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><p><strong>SO I got like four reviews on the last chapter, which made me super-mega-ultra-happy! You guys are awesome for reading, and it kinda makes me feel awesome when you review. It let's me know you guys like what I pump out here! <strong>


	13. Chapter 13

"I, like, can't believe Arthur has pink unicorn pajamas."

Felicija was going through the Brit's dresser, pulling out various articles of clothing and inspecting them with a critical eye.

"Felicija, I think you should stop," her brunette friend suggested meekly, "It's very rude."

"He told us to, like, help ourselves," the Pole reminded, "It'd be rude _not _to look at everything."

The Lithuanian set her mouth in a thin line and pulled on what she had chosen from the dresser: yellow pastel cotton pajama bottoms and a grey rugby T-shirt. She was surprised that she didn't have to adjust the waistband draw strings that much. She hadn't expected the man to be _that _thin.

Shortly after both women were changed into Arthur's sleepwear (Felicija selecting the pink pajama bottoms and a solid white undershirt), there was a knock at the door. Since the blonde had already stretched out across the bed and was currently going through the bedside table, Viktorija got up to answer.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you," Arthur said when she opened the door.

"No, not at all."

"Ah, yes well…" He was blushing. The Lithuanian realized it was because she was wearing his clothes. This in turn made her blush as well.

"Did-did you need something?" she asked politely in a quiet voice.

"Uh, yeah," he cleared his throat and rocked on the balls of his feet, "I wanted to check out that cut of yours. It'd get right nasty if it doesn't get cleaned out."

"Okay, I'll um," she laughed, a bit nervous, "Alright."

They both shared a tense laugh. The two stood there for a moment, looking down and not saying anything.

"Ohmigawd, will you two just kiss or something?" Felicija yelled from the bed, "You're totally like a couple of teenagers!"

"Um," Arthur stammered, "C-come on, I'll clean that for you."

Viktorija followed him out into the hallway, giving her friend an annoyed look before she closed the door behind her. The man led her to the bathroom.

"Just take a seat somewhere and I'll just…hmm…" the Englishman trailed off as he began to rummage through the small cupboard under the sink. He soon stood up with a triumphant "aha," holding a clean cloth, iodine, and a pair of latex gloves. Viktorija perched on the lip of the bathtub, watching as he pulled on the gloves and muttered things to himself under his breath. When he noticed her looking, he gave her an embarrassed smile.

"No offense by the gloves," he said apologetically, "It's for sanitary precautions."

"I don't mind."

"Right," Arthur mumbled, crouching down in front of her and simultaneously pouring the antiseptic onto the cloth, "Now, this may hurt."

He gently dabbed the wound, pausing when the woman winced. He smiled soothingly, waiting for her to nod before he continued.

"I'm almost finished," he commented, "Head wounds do tend to bleed a lot, so they look more serious than they actually are."

Viktorija already knew that, having cleaned up a few past injuries herself, but she remained silent, watching his expression. She was fascinated that he had become so calm while he worked, his tranquility calming her own nerves.

"That should do it," he said, screwing the cap back onto the bottle.

"Um, what about a bandage?" the brunette questioned.

"Oh, bugger you're right!" he chastised himself before going back to the cupboard, "It's a good thing the clinic hasn't called with the transfer paperwork. It'd be a mess if I mucked something up there."

She smiled as he rummaged through it once again, whispering to himself, "…band-aids won't do, gauze…"

When he found what he was looking for, he turned to her with a winning smile. Viktorija downcast her eyes as he gingerly secured a small square of gauze to her forehead with a few strips of medical tape. She relished the fact that someone was being so gentle with her, and she smiled subconsciously.

"There we are…" Arthur uttered, smoothing over his work with a careful motion of his thumb.

The woman looked up, catching his gaze. She leaned in hesitantly, but continuing when he didn't protest and even mirrored her movement. She let her eyes slip shut just before their lips touched…

"Hurry up! I gotta use it!"

Viktorija's eyes snapped open and Arthur jumped away, both of them glowing redder than a stop light. The brunette got up and opened the door while Arthur snapped off his gloves and tossed them in the waste bin.

"It's all yours, Miss Lukasiewicz," he said, walking past her and the Lithuanian, "Good night to you both."

"Good night," Viktorija said to the quickly retreating figure down the hall.

"Yeah, night!" the Pole called, shutting herself in the bathroom.

The brunette stood in the hallway, lamenting her friend's sense of timing.

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><p>Ivan sat on the edge of his bed, a looming shadow in the dimness. A bottle of vodka hung loosely in his hand. He stared into the darkness, clinging onto a pillow much like a frightened child. He closed his eyes and buried his face into the pillow. It smelled like her. His little Viktorija.<p>

He missed her terribly. She was the only one who showed him any form of kindness. She was the only one who loved him. He needed her desperately. But _they _had taken her away from him. Especially that…that _Englishman. _

He took a long drink from the already half empty bottle in his grasp. He raised his other hand limply to his face, wiping away the dampness from his tear stained face. He didn't want to hurt his doll, but sometimes she needed to be punished. It was for her own good. He was trying to stop her from doing bad things. He was trying to make her perfect.

Ivan needed his Viktorija. As the slightest glow of day morning began to replace the artificial radiance of the street lamps, the Russian stood, his mind set.

He would have to pay Arthur a visit.

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><p><strong>DUN DUN DUN! Yeah, Ivan's a little crazy, but he's heat-broken and stuffs. He just doesn't know a healthy way to express his emotions… Anyway, I'm giving this thing three more chapters at the most, so I'm afraid our time, dear reader, is coming to a close. But you'll all have a special place in my heart forever, because what would I be without all of you to write for? A very sad person, that's what.<strong>


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